The morning light spilling through the estate windows did nothing to ease the weight in Lianna's chest.
Her hands trembled as she wiped her face, trying and failing to stop the tears. Arin was still gone. The silence from the kidnappers was worse than any threat—worse than any scream.
She hadn't slept.
Hadn't eaten.
And now, of all times, Damian walked through the front door.
She turned to him quickly, the tension in her spine instant. He wasn't supposed to be here.
His presence felt both like comfort… and betrayal.
"Where have you been?" she asked, voice hoarse.
Damian set down his briefcase. His suit looked crisp, perfect as ever—but his eyes gave him away. Tired. Distracted.
"There was a trip," he said calmly. "Strictly business. I couldn't get out of it."
Lianna stepped closer, anger flashing behind her exhaustion. "Why didn't you pick up your phone? I called. I called you, Damian. I needed—"
He looked at her then, almost like a man wounded.
"I was trying to process what I saw," he said quietly. "You. Kian. The kiss."
Silence fell between them.
She dropped her gaze. One hand reached for her neck—the spot where Kian's touch still lingered, whether she wanted it or not.
"I didn't plan that," she murmured.
Damian exhaled sharply. "You didn't stop it, either."
She said nothing. Arin's face burned in her mind. The knot in her chest grew tighter.
"Arin's in trouble," she whispered. "They haven't called. It's been hours—hours, and nothing—"
He moved closer, his voice softening. "I'm sorry."
His hand found her waist. But her body stiffened.
Subtly, she shifted—removing his arm as gracefully as she could without breaking the moment entirely.
The burner phone on the table rang.
They both froze and she lunged for it.
"Hello?"
There was a soft laugh. Feminine. Cold.
Cassandra.
"You want your son back?" she said.
Lianna's heart nearly stopped.
"You'll sign over the remaining shares in Vale Corp. You'll cut ties with Juno. Publicly denounce Kian as a fraud, a manipulator. Do that—and I'll consider returning your son."
Click.
The call ended before Lianna could scream back.
Her entire body shook. Her eyes searched the room like someone drowning.
Damian stood beside her, tension drawn through every line of his frame. But his voice remained even. Persuasive.
"You should do it," he said. "For your son. For Arin."
Lianna looked at him—truly looked.
He meant it.
Not because it was the right thing.
But because it served him, too.
Her son… or Kian.
Her past… or her future.
It wasn't just a choice.
It was a war.
——
The clock ticked louder than usual inside the Serein Corp penthouse suite, though no one else would have noticed. But to Lianna, it echoed like a countdown.
Her feet moved in tight circles—pacing the length of the glass-paneled office. Her heels clicked against marble, then paused as she reached the edge of the floor-to-ceiling window. The sky was overcast. Cold light filtered through. The world felt suspended. On pause.
Just like her.
Her phone rested on the edge of her desk—Kian's name already half-dialed on screen. Her thumb hovered above the call button.
She stopped. Pulled back.
No.
She couldn't tell him. Not yet. The kidnappers had been clear—if anyone else found out, Arin would die. No police. No trackers. No games.
She wrapped her arms around herself, staring down at the city far below.
"Please, God…" she whispered, her voice hollow from hours of crying. Her throat was raw. Her eyes bloodshot. "Please don't let them hurt my son…"
Across the room, the chair still held the jacket Damian had left behind earlier. He'd received a call and stepped out, saying he'd "handle something" and be back soon. He'd seen her break. He'd told her to take the deal.
But this wasn't just a deal.
It was a betrayal.
Cassandra's message had been clear:
Sign over all remaining Vale Corp shares.
Publicly denounce Kian as a fraud.
Dissolve her partnership with Juno.
And Arin lives.
She collapsed into the chair. The weight of it all dragged her down. She couldn't betray Kian. Or Juno. But Arin wasn't just a child. He was her son. Their son. Adopted when he was just four, always clutching that threadbare fox toy he never let go of.
A mother's love warred with every shred of loyalty she had left.
Then—
The door slammed open.
"Tell me you're not seriously doing this," Juno hissed, storming in.
Lianna sat up, startled.
Juno's eyes were wide, wild with betrayal. "You think I wouldn't find out? You think I wouldn't know you were planning to go on air and say all of it?!"
Lianna's silence said enough.
Juno's voice broke. "You were going to throw Kian under the bus. Destroy me. Hand everything to Cassandra—for what? For him?"
"Not for him," Lianna whispered.
Juno stared. "Then for who?"
"…For Arin."
The name changed everything.
A silence fell.
Juno swallowed, heart lurching. "They have him?"
Lianna nodded, her lips trembling. "I didn't know what to do. They said they'd kill him if anyone knew."
"And you think handing Vale to James will make them stop?" Juno stepped closer, furious and heartbroken. "You know if you give Cassandra power once—she won't stop."
"I know!" Lianna shouted. Her voice cracked. "I know, okay? But I can't just sit here doing nothing while my son is—"
She broke off, tears rushing again.
The tension hung heavy between them.
Juno looked at her friend, really looked at her. And the anger softened—just a little.
Lianna didn't speak again. She turned away, swallowing sobs.
⸻
FLASHBACK:
The lights of the shareholder hall had been too bright that day. Cameras everywhere. A hundred eyes watching.
Lianna stood beside Kian, hands locked together.
"Ready?" he'd asked her quietly, before they walked on stage.
She hadn't been. Not really. But she'd nodded.
Their marriage had been as much business as emotion. Part of a deal. A vote-swaying decision to keep Vale in the hands of its founders.
And it had worked.
But she hadn't expected to fall in love with Kian afterward. Or to have it all fall apart.
Her mother had been alive then. Holding her hand just before the ceremony. "This family… it's not built on blood," she'd said. "It's built on fire."
She hadn't known what that meant until now.
⸻
MEANWHILE:
Rain pelted the black rocks of a remote island—far from Mexico, far from cameras.
Kian moved through the darkness, his breath white in the cold.
They'd traced the burner phone's signal here—the last ping before it vanished completely.
Now, he stood inside a crumbling villa, long-abandoned.
Torn curtains. Dust. Silence.
But in the corner, by the hearth—
A small item.
Kian stepped closer, kneeling slowly.
A stuffed fox.
Arin's fox.
The same one he'd clutched when they signed the adoption papers. The same one he wouldn't sleep without. Kian held it in his hand like it was a lifeline.
He gritted his teeth, throat tight.
They'd been here.
But they were already gone.
⸻
Back in Mexico—
The lights of the press room were hot.
Cameras pointed straight at her. A microphone was clipped to her collar.
Damian stood offstage now. Watching her. Waiting.
Lianna adjusted the mic. Her lips trembled once.
Then stilled.
The red light blinked on.
"We're live in 3… 2… 1…"
The reporter nodded at her to begin.
Lianna looked into the lens.
She was supposed to start with:
"I regret to inform the board that I will be resigning…"
Instead—
She said:
"If you're watching this—Cassandra, James, Henry—then know this: I'm not afraid of you anymore."
Behind the cameras, murmurs broke out.
"I won't be your puppet. And I won't be your silence."
She reached into her pocket and held up something unexpected—Arin's drawing. The faceless man with a crown.
"This was drawn by a boy you stole from his home. My son. If you want war…"
Her voice broke. Then steadied.
"You'll have it."
⸻
Back in a darkened room—Cassandra watches the livestream in silence.
She smiles slowly, teeth sharp.
"She chose war," she whispers.
She presses a button.
And in another room…
Arin wakes up.
To fire.